Tag Archives: scan

Yes, I’ve been down the tibe again. Is that 6 times now? I’ve lost count.

They have given up looking for signs of intelligent life (I think) and this time wanted to have a look at my hearing gear as they’ve worked out what my recent problems have been all about and are going to have a bash at a minor operation to get me back to, if not as good as new, then at least as good as I ought to be.

A 10 minute lie down in the drainpipe this time; about average really, and they are nothing to be afraid of if you are facing one. Just lie back and relax and it will soon be over and done with.

If anyone reading this does have their first scan coming up and are bothered. Feel free to get in touch (Leave a comment here or click on the link to my web site where you can email me) and I’ll be happy to try and reassure you that it’s not that bad.

Off to the Great Western Hospital again today, partly for a review of my last MRI scan results and, hopefully, they will show that I haven’t developed a talent for growing salivary gland tumours after all. We’re pretty confident that I haven’t, that Larry the Lump was just a one off that needed three operations before I was finally rid of him, but you have to monitor these things.

The other reason for the visit is to remove the remnants of the wisdom tooth that my dentist left behind just over three months ago. I’ve joked before about this terraced house in the suburbs where I go every now and again to pay two women to cause me pain for half an hour, but on my last visit things did go wrong. Having declined to invest around £1000 (yes a grand) in having a tooth at the back rebuilt I opted to lose it. Nicely numbed up I lay back and thought of England (the good one we had before this government ruined it) and tried to relax, the crunch! The top of the tooth was just crushed leaving me with the base of it and its roots.

This was 10 days before I flew out to the USA for nearly 4 weeks and the root removal would have to be a hospital job, so with me not back until a couple of days before Christmas, it would be at least January before anything could be done, and here we are halfway through February. Part of that is because I have the A team looking after my other oral problem, and they have kindly taken the tooth extraction under their wing and scheduled me on their list and they have got me in 2 weeks earlier than it first looked possible to arrange.

So today is the day. Yes it’s pretty routine and, as I say, I have the A team doing the job, but I am a quivering wreck. I know that this is irrational and all the rest, but there it is. The best dentist I have had so far, back in Chelmsford, told me I had three problems with my mouth; small aperture, big tongue and teeth that would have served a horse well. He did manage to get in there and do a good job; most of his work is still intact and serving me well, but all other dentists have struggled with me over the years, even with just the routine maintenance.

I’m writing this in the hopes that, in doing so, it my help calm me a little. It has to be done; the remnants cannot just be left there and I haven’t been able to eat properly since the original botch up, and that came as soon as was feasible after my third operation on Larry the Lump, which in turn was as soon as possible after the second operation, so I have had works in progress in my mouth since last May. My mouth feel likes our road network – bits always coned off and dug up.

In fact it’s two years since the saga began. January 23 2008 I walked out of a consultant’s office with the news that I had a tumour and that it would have to come out before they could tell me more. I switched my phone back on to call home, but voicemail chimed in with the message that my Mother was not expected to see the day out and I should get to the hospital if I could. All being well today will draw a line under the whole thing.

Just back from GWH in Swindon having had another MRI scan. One of my fellow outpatients was getting very distressed about their turn and I know of others who are terrified, so here are a few thoughts that I hope will encourage those who are worried.

I’ve had a few scans now, some in the open scanner where you lie on the ironing board and they move what looks like a big circular fluorescent tube over you, but the others, like today, have been in the tunnel version (I don’t know the technical term).

Yes they are a tube and yes you do have to be slid into it on your trolley. Now I’m not exactly small; I’m 6ft 2, somewhere around 20 stone (280lbs) and take a 50 inch chest jacket size, so I do touch the sides, but I just lie back and relax, shut my eyes and think about anything other that where I am.

Some of the scans are a bit on the noisy side and may involve a bit of vibration, but they warn you over the headphones. You have your buzzer in your hand if it really gets distressing, but if you can just lie still and let them get it done it’s soon over. If they pull you out they have to start again, at least from that scan, so relax and enjoy the chance to have a lie down during the day!

It doesn’t hurt and, whilst you are in a confined space, there is nothing to trap you or to fall in on you, it is nice and clean and you also have medical help a few feet away.

I hope that these words help anyone that reads them. Feel free to email me (via my web site – see link on right) if you’d like to cyber chat about it.